On The Right

I bless the LORD who counsels me;

even in the night my heart exhorts me.

I set the LORD ever before me;

with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.

-psalm 16:8*

God at my right hand.

Feels a little - ego-centric - doesn't it? The Lord before me - YES! The Lord at my right hand?

Shouldn't that be the other way around? Me at HIS right hand, at HIS service, at HIS beck & call. HIS handmaiden. Reliable, trustworthy, dependable.

As is my habit when presented with such a Biblical conundrum - I went down the rabbit-hole in search of a deeper interpretation. Something to help me understand King David's mindset when writing about God being his right hand.

There is a premise suggested that Psalm 16 is a "miktam" of David. A literal song. And his first verse is:

Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge.

A song dedicated to God and the plea for God's security in life. How apropos. My present life is consumed with the need to feel "safe". For so many reasons. This bold reminder that God keeps me safe, always, is one I didn't see coming and is further proof of the workings of the Lord. All I did today is go for the day's readings (see note at the bottom). Picked a verse that I liked and went from there.

Yeah, God isn't moving in my life. No, nothing like that. /sarcasm

My research** suggests that having "God at my right hand" is a place of honor and importance. And from my human point of view - it is arrogant to believe God should want to be at my right hand. Doesn't he have more important things to do?

But then I remove myself from the equation (as we should do) and realize that God wants to be in this priority position in my life. 

Because that is where he belongs. The first, last, and always in our lives. The Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End (Revelation 22:13). The only thing that is a constant - unshakeable, unconditional love for us. For our safety. For our protection. For our salvation.

Do we see God the way King David did? As our refuge, our guide, the ultimate honor for us to have God as our right hand? By our side, guiding us, having everything in His control? 

For 2026 this is my singular prayer all day, every day: to trust that God has my back. 

*this is part of the daily readings for Saturday April 18, 2026 per the Roman Catholic Missal.

**My primary resource for my rabbit-hole wanderings is a magnificent tome - "New Collegeville Bible Commentary" by Daniel Durken. (Wow - this book wasn't inexpensive when I purchased it about 7 years ago; it is now twice the price I paid, at $125!). This book has been a fantastic way to get more meaning from the Bible. It is more than a deep dive into every single verse in every Book.

Once More

Hello friends. It's been a full year since I posted in this space. SO much has happened. As I alluded in my last post of April 6, 2025 - there was tons going on and not much of it good.

My darling, beloved hubby was diagnosed with cancer in March 2025. The world's rarest cancer - 
Sarcoma. They represent just 1% of all cancers diagnosed each year. And to add to the rarity, Sarcomas have 50 sub-types. 50. Five. Zero. Jim's specific cancer was a Liposarcoma - a fat cell run amuk. Talk about vanishingly rare.

And to make it just that much more traumatic - in a location that 8 Chief Oncologists in 4 different hospitals - had never seen before.

Yeah, we skipped to the head of the line and only saw "Chiefs" during this journey. From a well-respected hospital in Hartford, CT to the world renowned Dana-Farber Cancer Institute to the also world-renowned MA General Hospital. Oh yeah, and I can't forget the world famous Smilow Cancer Institute at Yale New Haven Hospital.

So the very happy news is - he is fine. So far so good, no recurrence and no spread. He will be screened every 3 months for the next 5 years, then every 6 months for another 10 years, then annually for the rest of his life.

Talk about the wake-up call no one wants. And pretty much the ultimate test of our faith. Hubby leaned into that pretty quickly. Surrendered it all to God in an act of breathtaking faith and trust. He stills feels that way, one year later. God had him in His hands and all would be well.

The testing of my faith - continues right to this moment. My ability to trust is nearly non-existent. A childhood filled with abuse and an adulthood marred by ongoing manipulations...will do that to a person.

I am the kind of person who doesn't just have a Plan A - I also have a B, C, and D (at least) for everything. I must anticipate all possible outcomes so I can be prepared.

Except nothing prepares you for when your beloved spouse's life is threatened. No matter how many plans I made, no matter how much work I did to ensure all appointments, tests, etc...were accounted for and solidly set-up, confirmed, and communicated - it was never enough to rid me of my fear.

That I would lose him to cancer. 

Yet despite all my best efforts to plan - every single corner had "other plans" waiting for me. More tests, massive radiation treatment plans, and a surgery that would result in a permanent physical deficit for him.

And again, he showed me what real faith looks like. He never once complained. Oh he cried a bit here and there. He got extremely frustrated with himself. Yet his faith in God's plans for him never wavered. There was no wobble. Just his steadfast belief that God had everything in control.

Me? Not so much.

I prayed all day every day for hubby's safety thru all this. For the surgical outcome to be the best it could be given the circumstances. I had faith enough to pray to God.

I didn't believe though. Didn't believe that he would take hubby thru it and out the other side - if not whole then whole-enough. Safe & healthy.

And here we are - 13 months post-diagnosis, 8 months post-radiation, 7 months post-op - and hubby is thriving. Adjusting to his "new normal". Living his life. His new-found life.

{This new life is FAR better than the first option presented by Dana Farber. The tumor was on the largest muscle in your body - the one that controls your ability to lift your leg from the hip and allow you to raise & bend that leg from the knee. The muscle was so compromised by the tumor that it could not be saved. Full removal was the only option. With the critical nerves involved, Dana Farber advocated full amputation of his leg, at the hip. They even used the words "dire situation" to describe it. (Even a year after that appointment, we are not over the trauma it caused.) Ironically, they recommended a 2nd opinion from MA General Hospital; they doubled-down on their recommendation by saying we needed to "hear it from someone else". We pursued that 2nd opinion and found a masterful surgeon, physician, and human being at MA General. He was stunned at the Dana Farber plan and assured us it would not be necessary. Thanks be to God (yeah, more irony for me) he was right. With a couple of physical limitations, hubby kept his leg and it functions pretty well. As the surgeon said:  You'll walk - it won't be pretty but it will be on your own 2 legs.}

Me? I remain a work in progress. I still pray everyday but it's changed a bit - for God's mercy to heal me, to help me accept that God is in control. And that no matter what happens, God still wants the best for us.

A friend recently said this: Sometimes I think there are 2 options for Purgatory - the one we all know about - you die and go to Purgatory to be purified. The other - you go thru Purgatory in your lifetime and don't face it after your death.

I rather like that POV.

P.S. I shall be starting up blogging again. :-) 

Healed

So...it's been awhile. Lots going on, some of it great and some it not good at all. And we turn to prayer as often as possible. For the good to continue and for God's mercy on the not good.

During Mass last night I was struck, as I usually am, by the phrase we say after consecration:

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

These words are taken straight from the Gospel of St. Matthew, Chapter 8, verse 8. Spoken by a Roman Centurion as he pled for Jesus to heal his servant. The idea of a Roman submitting to the will of God thru Jesus is as much an oxymoron today as it must have been for Jesus. Due to the Centurion's humility, Jesus healed his servant.

These words are now the final Eucharistic prayer in the Mass, recited before receiving Holy Communion, expressing humility and gratitude for the gift of Christ.

For me, it is the words "...my soul shall be healed." (In the verse in Matthew this is about the Centurion indicating that if Jesus only says the word his servant will be healed.)

Not might be.

Not could be.

Shall be...

As a Christadelphian I was always told God's mercy and my salvation were something up for debate. In the presence of Jesus on the last day my repentance might not be enough for my healing.

Imagine growing up with that in your head. You had to be "good" and if you sinned, repent as you went thru life. Asking for God's forgiveness. But on judgement day...well let's just say things could go awry swiftly and permanently.

As I studied to convert to Catholicism we spent a class focusing on the Eucharistic portion of the Mass. Prayers, consecration, receiving Communion. We had readings to do prior to each class. For this lesson it was the history of the Eucharist, the origins of the prayers, and our conduct during Mass. When I came to that line...

It rocked my foundations. To the depth of my being - I remember having to stop the study session at home so I could gather myself. I broke down sobbing and couldn't continue.

All my life, up to that point, I truly believed that no matter what I did I might never have eternal life.

And there, in black & white, from the mouth of a Roman and recorded by St. Matthew - was my salvation.

Five simple words. Five short syllables. It was there the whole time. During my time as a Christadelphian I know I heard that reading every year. Not once did anyone call that out for what it is - our redemption thru our faith in Jesus Christ.

I recall feeling - betrayed by my family. Betrayed by all the people I had trusted as a child. They terrorized me with their exhortations and sunday school. They took the words of Jesus and surrounded them with a cloud of fear.

Imagine what that did to me as a child. A vulnerable, abused kid/teenager looking for mercy wherever I could find it because I sure as heck didn't get it at home. 

Imagine what that did to me as 40-something adult. A still vulnerable seeker, trying to heal from all that abuse, praying for some kind of intervention for absolution.

And there it was - staring at me from every Bible I had ever touched or read.

And oh the irony. For a class to convert to Catholicism to show that to me so clearly, while the almighty Christadelphians still believe that everything bad in the world is because of the Catholic Church and believe they have the corner on the market of Bible interpretation.

When no interpretation is required. The words are there - they always have been.

Just like God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. We are never alone.

Mine

There is something soothing in the knowledge that we can turn to God whenever we want. Whether taking a long walk, sitting in the quiet of our home, or even in the bathroom at work - don't ask me how I know :-). 

God is always there. Wanting to hear from us. No matter what our physical circumstances are, God is waiting for us to reach out to him.

Whether it's in fear, sadness, or joy - we are never alone when we put our trust in God.

Bondage

When we see that word - bondage - it's likely we automatically think of slavery. A stain on any society that kept slaves. And while the word does usually mean being kept in chattel slavery, there is another meaning:

servitude or subjugation to a controlling person or force

It is this lesser-known meaning I've been praying on this past week. Particularly the "force" emphasized.

What could this force be? In the context of my own prayers it represents a spiritual attack on my well-being. I hesitate to say this as I'm not one to go this dramatic within my faith but...

satan

There. I said it.

The evil one. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Dark Lord. Mephistopheles. The Beast.

So many names for one creature. 

I have come to see, incredibly recently, that I have been under spiritual attack by The Dark Lord. Intent on keeping me servile, it has tied me to the hatred that I bonded to within my own family.

Most everything they did was only for their own benefit. Self-aggrandizement. Charity did not begin at home unless someone could take credit for it. How very - un-Christian. And of course I've already shared what that meant in my family.

Their Christian virtues were irrevocably tied up in hatred. They weren't pro-Christadelphian, they were anti-Catholic (anti any Christian practice really). My mother was anti-<insert ethnicity here>. My father was the same. Equal opportunity bigots.

They hated pretty much anyone who didn't march to their particular drum. And that included people within the family as much as without. Since they weren't very loving, as a child we had no choice but to bond to what they offered.

And so here I am - bonded to their hatred. 

And given a gift without price. An epiphany delivered at Mass last weekend by none other than Holy Mary, Mother of God.

{Now to clarify things for the non-Catholics in the crowd - we do not worship Holy Mary. She is a Saint, not a God-replacement. She is venerated as all Saints are; we pray to her for her intercession on our behalf to Jesus, thru whom we pray to God. That's all. She is very important to the Catholic faith - as she should be to all Christian faiths.}

Back to Holy Mary's gift. In a quiet moment of communal & introspective prayer I found myself praying for my father. For the first time in nearly a decade I spoke his name in prayer in a positive way - and asked for the strength to learn how to forgive him.

Trust me - his sins against his daughter are great indeed. The worst sin a parent can commit on their child. In fact those sins really are among the unforgivable.

And yet, here I am. For the first time in my life recognizing that the kind of forgiveness I need to give him will release me.

Just me. Only me.

In a moment of pure clarity, Holy Mary showed me the chains that tie me to him. The connection that keeps me subjugated to him. To his hate. Literal chains leading to this man who wounded me so deeply I never thought I'd recover from the memories of it.

It was - literally a godsend of coherence in a mind that was anything but.

With this magnificent and quite holy offering, I have finally stepped on a path I haven't really seen for my entire life. The incredible understanding of this kind of forgiveness.

How liberating it will be. Oh yes, Holy Mary showed me that too.

After talking about it endlessly - annoyingly even - my journey in faith has taken on another facet. One that I know will bring me closer to that goal of all goals...

...peace.

Amen.

New

Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it. 

-anne shirley, aka Anne of Green Gables

One of my favorite books and favorite characters of all time. Anne gets herself into - and out of - some serious scrapes during her life. She is amusing, smart, and kind. We should all endeavour to be like Anne. Even if sometimes we question her decision-making.

And she is right of course - every day dawns anew. A fresh sunrise to mark the start of the day. A new set of tasks or activities.

Buddha tells us:

Sunrise over the Presidential Mountain Range in N.H.

Indeed. Today is its own day. Our attitude upon the start of each day will dictate how that day will unfold.

Do we enter each day with a grateful heart? Or do we - as I have done this past week - enter the day with an out-of-sorts mind and grumpy heart.

Yes, I've worn my grumpy pants everyday this week. In truth it was a hard week.

The pace at work is relentless. Each passing month gets more fraught with tension and an endless list of stuff that needs to be done.

And done yesterday, if you can manage it. Thankyouverymuch.

I'm not the only one who feels this way. Everyone around me at the office is dealing with their own stress and the ridiculous demands placed upon each of us by an ever-changing landscape.

Ten years ago - you could work 2 years on a major project, deliver a stunning achievement, and bask in the glory of it all for at least 90 days.

Today? You get 2 months for that same level project, deliver the same stunning achievement. And when you do - everyone is already looking for the next big thing.

On one hand, it does suggest that employment is secure with a never-ending list of priorities, strategies, and deliverables that stretch out for years.

On the other hand, all of it leads to a chronically stressed workforce where common courtesies and respect have given way to workload and a self-centeredness that borders on narcissism among some.

Starting every day with gratitude - knowing what is coming during that day - is sometimes an act of courage.

Why not just acknowledge the hopelessness of ever getting ahead or even being able to celebrate an accomplishment. Trudge thru each day and end it - grateful that it's over.

But that's not what God wants for us, is it?

No. He wants us to be happy. To enjoy this one life that we all get. It is his particular joy to take on our burdens so why don't we give them to him before we put one foot on the floor?

He tells us in Lamentations that this is exactly what he wants us to do:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” -lamentations 3:22-24

It is here - in hope thru God - that we can find our gratitude. He is the reason we have breath in our lungs, sunshine in the sky, and earth under our feet.

Be like Anne Shirley - and treat every day as if it is brand new with no mistakes, no demands.

Save one - enter it with gratitude for God and the abundance of gifts he offers us each day.

The Hole

Grief.

It is one of humanity's greatest burdens. In any kind of loss, grief seizes us and holds us fast. It can take many forms - the dreaded "process" - and like a roller coaster we suffer with anger, sadness, depression, shock, and finally - we pray - acceptance. The last of which leads to healing.

And it's not a linear journey, is it? For each of us it is unique and can go back-and-forth; round and round like a carousel with no way to get off.

It is a long process too. Pitfalls await us; they can appear so suddenly that we are at the bottom before we are even aware of what has happened.

Some say grief is the space we hold for the love we can no longer express outwardly. 

I'm not sure I buy into that. To me, grief is the hole left when someone leaves your circle. Depending on the person, the relationship, and the manner of departure, that hole can be a pinprick or a canyon. And healing that hole is part of that journey - no one talks about that part.

How do you heal a hole left when someone leaves you? And it's not just in death that they leave; they can leave in anger, hatred, blame.

When it's anger that prompts a permanent departure - how do you reconcile what you thought you knew with what they reveal about themselves in the manner of their leaving? 

And if we ask God where he was when this was happening to us - how do we open ourselves up to the lessons we could learn if we can navigate our way to acceptance?

I suppose, as Christians, we should take comfort in the many ways God reassures us with his word & promises throughout the Bible. The verse above - written by the ever brilliant, sometimes inscrutable apostle, St. Paul - is one that resonates with me deeply.

Also, this verse has brought me great comfort in years past:

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit" -psalm 34:18

Crushed in spirit - that is me. An old grief resurfaced today and revealed that the part I thought was healed, is not. In fact it will likely never heal over. The hole left behind is that canyon - so wide that when the grief comes in, I am flooded with it. It is a searing pain.

And a circumstance where the apology that should come ... won't ever be offered. I am, once again, navigating my way through my old nemesis - forgiveness - with no acknowledgement from the other person for the wrong.

And...grieving someone who is still alive.

I've grieved the dead and that is no easy thing. Grieving the living - I think it's harder. So much harder. 

They still pursue their interests, their passions; all the things we used to do together. And now - I am alone in those pursuits. The things that bound us together are in tatters. The warp &  weft of our lives is undone.

And years later, when that grief spikes my heart, it brings me back to the center of the departure.

Sudden. Quiet. Skulked away like a coward, a ghost, leaving nothing but pain & unanswered questions in their wake.

And so we are here, in this place. Springboarded back into it suddenly, with no warning signs. Just - BOOM - here we are.

And I'm starting to see it all a little differently. I'm noticing that I really have healed so much from this sad situation. The part of me that was stolen by her - leaving that gaping canyon for years - is the part of me that tolerated her cruelty and bullying over the 25+ years we knew each other. Maybe that hole shouldn't be filled in. Maybe I need to let my life grow in around it, make me stronger, braver.

Because I know now that I would never tolerate that again, from anyone.

My perspective has shifted over the past couple of years and I accept this truth:

The peace I feel without her in my life is  worth being the villain in her story.

My experiences today - with all this popping up unexpectedly - are showing me an area of grief I still need to heal. And instead of fighting it - cuz grief really is so messy - I'm leaning into it and letting God take over for me.

He promises that peace that passes all understanding. And I'm feeling today that maybe that peace is within my grasp. All I have to do is let God in.

Don't we all need to do that?